Bedtime Story
by Marith
Summary: Youji tells one to Aya. Light and sweet.


Title: Bedtime Story  
Author: Marith  
Email: marith@idiom.com  
Status: Complete  
Type: General/Romance  
Spoilers: a bit of Youji's past  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Youji tells one to Aya.   
  
  
  
  
"Can't sleep, Aya?"  
  
"...ngh."  
  
Youji reached over to stroke soft red hair, his hands inevitably  
wandering down from there and across smooth white shoulders. Perfect  
skin, always... It took an effort of will not to slide the blankets down  
further. Morning shift, he reminded himself.  
  
Waking up next to Aya was like owning the most obnoxious, relentless  
alarm clock possible. And you couldn't turn him off.  
  
"You've been tossing and turning for an hour."  
  
Silence.  
  
Youji trailed fingers up the back of Aya's neck in a teasing caress  
that ended just behind one ear. "Well, you're keeping me awake too.  
What should we do about that, hmmm?" Morning shift _was_ five whole  
hours away, come to think of it.  
  
Abruptly Aya swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.   
Startled, Youji caught at his arm. "What are you doing?"  
  
The other man didn't look around. "Not keeping you awake."  
  
No sleep _or_ sex tonight, apparently. Stifling an exasperated sigh,  
the blond sat up and pulled his partner into an embrace from behind.   
Aya made a slight motion to shake him off; Youji ignored it.  
  
"You have morning shift tomorrow."  
  
"So? I'd rather be tired together than sleep in a bed without you,  
idiot." He tugged at Aya gently. "C'mon. Get back in here, it's  
cold."  
  
After a moment the other sighed, which meant surrender. Youji let   
go and was treated to one of those enigmatic long looks as Aya slid   
back under the blankets.  
  
"...You make no sense."  
  
"Never have." He leaned forward and kissed Aya's nose. "Should  
I tell you a bedtime story?"  
  
God, Aya was cute when he scowled and rubbed his nose like that.   
"I'm not a child."  
  
"Didn't say you were. Let's see...I know a bunch of the kitsune legends."  
  
Aya gave the ceiling a long-suffering look.   
  
"How about the angel who had her wings stolen?"  
  
"No."  
  
"The wild thing in the marshes who wanted a soul?"  
  
"Youji."  
  
"Picky, picky." Youji brushed the bangs off his lover's forehead, deftly  
evading the hand that tried to bat him away. "Hm. Did I ever tell you  
about the first time I tailed somebody?"  
  
"...no." Aya was at least looking at him now. Hah.  
  
"Well then." Wriggling comfortably back into the blankets, Youji   
began.   
  
"It was my second case as a detective. I was nineteen and going to be  
the scourge of evil across Tokyo. Totally naive, and so fucking   
overconfident you wouldn't have recognized me.  
  
Did you say something there, Aya?   
  
Sounded like you did. Hmph.  
  
...Yes. But she's not in this story.  
  
Anyway. The job was to prove this guy was stealing company funds, and  
find out where the money went. The first part was easy. The second  
turned out to be his cocaine habit.   
  
I wanted to get a clear shot of him making a payment, hopefully without  
being noticed. Even small fry like drug dealers were a challenge back  
then. Especially ones linked to the Yakuza.  
  
Yes, as a matter of fact I take very good photographs. Did you think  
seduction and killing were my only talents?  
  
AND flowers. I meant to say that. Shut up.  
  
_Anyway_. So picture me, following the target to the train station  
and into one of those little coffee shops. He was due to make a   
payment that day and I wasn't going to lose sight of him for a   
second.   
  
He buys coffee and sits down alone in a two-person booth; I get  
some rice crackers and a newspaper for cover and sit at the   
counter. Not too close, but I have a clear line of sight. Perfect.  
  
At least until this big gorilla lumbers over and sits down right  
next to me with his own paper, completely blocking my view.   
He's got a scar on his cheek and a badly-fitting suit and as  
he pretends to scan the front page I see he's got a tattoo on  
his left hand.  
  
Oh great. The dealer brought a thug from the mob with him, and he  
obviously knew I'd been watching. I was so crushed. My first tail, and  
I got spotted.  
  
No, I did NOT learn my detecting skills from a mail-order course!  
Do you want to hear this story or not?  
  
So there am I, and there's the thug. He turns and _looks_ right at  
me, and I steel myself for a blow or a threat.  
  
Instead, you know what he does? He reaches out and opens my   
packet of rice crackers. Slowly, deliberately, he takes one and  
eats it.   
  
Now I'd never tangled with the mob before, remember. I had no  
idea this was totally typical.   
  
Right, exactly. It's an intimidation thing. Infringing on  
someone's territory to threaten them without breaking the law.   
Just like in that Taxing Woman movie.   
  
Back in the coffee shop. I am totally flabbergasted. What   
am I supposed to do, make a scene over rice crackers and   
draw more attention to myself? If I try to get up and move  
to another seat he'll probably break my arm. And I still  
can't see the target.  
  
First things first. I can't let this gorilla think he's   
scaring me. So I look him straight in the eye, take a   
rice cracker myself, and eat it. Slowly.   
  
He definitely wasn't expecting that. His eyes widen,  
and he looks at me more intently for a moment, sort of   
assessing. I get the impression he's inclined to  
actually take me seriously as an opponent now.   
  
But he doesn't escalate the conflict. Still watching me,  
he takes the third rice cracker and crunches it between  
his teeth.  
  
What can I do? Surreptitiously, I try to lean over  
and see around him. No luck; between the crowd and  
his huge shoulders, the target's completely hidden.  
Gritting my teeth in frustration, I take another cracker.   
  
We go through the entire packet that way, eyeing each   
other like wolves for a sign of weakness. It's really  
ludicrous, but also tense, you know? I imagine his   
report to the local boss: "That Kudou, he stood up to the  
rice crackers pretty well. We better do something about  
him."  
  
Finally after about ten minutes - though it seems like   
forever - the next express pulls in. People get to their  
feet and start crowding out the door of the shop, clutching  
their papers and briefcases. I see my target shuffling   
along with them.   
  
The thug stands up too, leaving his paper behind. He   
gives me one last measuring look over his shoulder as he   
disappears into the crowd.  
  
Right. I've got to catch up with the target and be  
more discreet this time. Grabbing my newspaper, I slide  
off my stool.   
  
...and there...underneath the newspaper...are my rice crackers."  
  
Silence reigned for a moment in the bedroom.  
  
Youji had never heard Aya laugh before, in almost three years  
together. The sound was intoxicating. He rested his chin on  
his arms and grinned like a fool.  
  
"You-", Aya could barely get the words out, "complete and  
total - idiot. Moron." He had to sit up to breathe.  
  
"Yup." Youji waited until the chuckles ran down and the   
redhead wiped the tears from his eyes. "So, you going  
to sleep now?"  
  
"...yes."  
  
He waited till Aya settled himself comfortably, then   
curled around him. For once there was no protest.  
  
"Night, love."  
  
"hn."  
  
---fin  
  
Of course, Youji lifted his story from the late great  
Douglas Adams, to whom this fic is dedicated. 


End file.
